


(don't look down) we're still rising up

by hipsterchrist



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: 1990s, 90s References, Best Friends, Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Bisexuality, Canon Gay Character, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Plays Itself, M/M, Making Out, Mentioned Bobby | Trevor Wilson, Nostalgia, Queer Luke Patterson, Queer Themes, Sexuality Crisis, The B in LGBTQ Stands for Bassist, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: "I can be bisexual? I thought that was, you know, only allowed for girls," Reggie says. Alex blinks at him. If this was anyone else, he'd think they were joking, but Reggie's eyes are wide and his mouth is open a little in some innocent degree of wonder. Alex isn't a violent guy, but he wants to go back in time and punch everyone who ever made Reggie feel like this was something he couldn't be."We should kiss!" Reggie exclaims, smacking at Alex's knee. "You and me! So I can be sure!"Alex's brain comes stuttering to a slow halt.Or, Alex gets talked into finishing something Luke started, Luke shows up late but finishes earliest, and Reggie is the one with the good ideas.
Relationships: Alex/Luke Patterson/Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 659





	(don't look down) we're still rising up

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't spend 2008-ca. 2012 involved at various levels in bandom to NOT get drawn into this.
> 
> Title is of course from Sunset Curve's "Now or Never." It's Innuendo Night at the Orpheum.
> 
> Alex and Reggie are 17, but, technically, is Luke 18 now that he's had a birthday since popping up in the world as a ghost? Or are they all still 17 because they died at 17 and ghosts don't age? Anyway, I warned for it regardless, and the fandom police can't hurt you because the fandom police aren't real. Enjoy.

“So...do you wanna talk about it?” Alex asks, slouching into the couch beside Reggie. He kicks his feet out to rest on the table in front of them and glances over at his friend. 

“Talk about what?” Reggie says brightly. Alex frowns. The thing about Reggie is that he’s generally straightforward about his feelings and his face is wildly expressive, which makes it easy for him to hide it when he’s really bothered. Pretty much anyone else looking at Reggie right now would take in his raised eyebrows, his wide eyes, and the upturned corner of his mouth and assume he was perfectly fine, but not Alex. Alex knows better. 

Alex knows _Reggie_ better.

"Come on. I know something's bugging you," he says, resisting the urge to reach over and touch the barely there furrow of the corner of Reggie's right eyebrow for a moment before just giving in. He presses his thumb there gently before stroking upward. It's not really a visible change when Reggie's expression relaxes under his touch, but Alex can feel the shift below the pad of his thumb.

"Well, I don't know if it's _bugging_ me," Reggie says, but Alex can hear the tentative trailing off, and catches the flash of a half-frown. He drops his hand from Reggie's face, only for Reggie to wrap his hand loosely around his elbow. He waits.

"I just keep thinking about that thing Luke did," Reggie finally says. Alex breathes out some relief. If this is about Luke, then this is solid ground. Nothing he can't handle.

"What thing? He does a lot of things," Alex says. He glances down at his feet on the table. "It's impossible to get him to _stop_ doing things, actually."

"The thing where he grabbed my neck and sang in my face," Reggie says. Alex feels his eyes bulge for a second before he schools his own face into neutrality and looks over again at Reggie, who's at least got the decency to go red high on his cheeks right now. At least Alex knows he's not alone with the lump forming low in his throat.

So, like, maybe not _totally_ solid ground. Maybe something more slippery, like a patch of ice, or soft, like mud. Quicksand! The '80s taught him to be terrified of that, right? Just because Julie looked confused when he mentioned it last week doesn't mean it's not a real thing.

"Ah," he says, nodding. Reggie taps out a rhythm above his elbow. 

"And the thing where he kissed his fingers and then put them on my mouth," he continues, meeting Alex's eyes. "Do you remember that?"

"Yep," Alex says, too quickly. "Yes. I do remember that." He _wishes_ he didn't. He wishes he could forget it. He wishes Reggie would let go of his arm.

"Yeah, so, I...think I liked that?" Reggie says, and suddenly Alex realizes what this is: a sexuality panic. A bit of relief washes over him again. _Definitely_ nothing he can't handle.

"Okay," he says. More nodding. Supportive eye contact. No biggie.

"But, I mean, I still like girls." Reggie's eyebrows shoot up again. "I like girls a _lot_!" 

"Can't relate," Alex says, shrugging, "but, yeah, believe me: I know how much you like girls." And he does. He _knows_ how much Reggie likes girls. He wishes he didn't know how much Reggie likes girls.

"Right," says Reggie, wincing at the tiny crack of his voice. "But, I liked the thing Luke did, right? I mean, I wasn't lying when I said it was hot.”

“Mmhm.” The work Alex is putting toward keeping his facial expression steadfastly neutral is starting to feel draining. He doesn't want to give Reggie conversational whiplash in the middle of a crisis, but he _has_ to move this along. For his own sake. 

"But I still--"

"Reggie," Alex starts, moving to rest his elbow on the back of the couch between them. It puts an end to the distraction of Reggie's fingers on his skin and also allows him to slap lightly at Reggie's shoulder in a platonic bro sort of way that always makes Reggie grin, wide and bright and, in this moment, right at him - an instant game changer. 

"You know you can like girls _and_ guys, don't you?" he continues, tipping his head toward Reggie. "There's a whole letter in the acronym for it. And it's one of the main ones, too, which is nice. There's so many letters, and also a number, I think? I'm still learning, but, I mean, the B is right there."

"I can be bisexual? I thought that was, you know, only allowed for girls," Reggie says. Alex blinks at him. If this was anyone else, he'd think they were joking, but Reggie's eyes are wide and his mouth is open a little in some innocent degree of wonder and Alex--Alex isn't a violent guy, not at all, but he wants to go back in time and punch everyone who ever made Reggie feel like this was something he couldn't be.

"Of course you can be bi," he says. It comes out quieter than he intended, and so earnest he's almost embarrassed, but then he remembers his own crisis when he had no one to talk to about it, the way his hands shook when he gripped his sticks and sat behind his drum set like it would protect him when he came out to the band.

It's different in 2020 - not perfect, still, not ideal, but utterly, inconceivably better - but even in 1993, when shit still seemed like barely more than a mounting death toll and annual marches on Washington for equal rights, his boys never made him feel anything less than supported. Luke was the one who moved first but it was Reggie who reached him before anyone else, grabbed him around his tense shoulders before he could shrink away, and actually kissed him on the top of his head. It was a heart shatteringly progressive reaction - Alex's own parents acted scared to touch him for a month when he told them a year later - and it came after almost three years of Alex begging himself to just be _normal_ , two years of self-doubt and self-hatred chipping away at him, one year of Luke and Reggie and even Bobby knowing something was wrong with him but not having any idea of what to say to make him tell them.

If Alex can give Reggie what he never had in those years, then, okay. Maybe dying and becoming a ghost and crying for twenty-five years was worth something more than meeting Julie, more than playing the Orpheum. Maybe something even better.

"Dude, bisexuality is for everybody. Plenty of guys are bi," he says. Reggie's mouth twitches into a momentary frown.

"But, is it okay to call myself that if I still mostly like girls?" he asks. "I don't wanna, like, co-opt a term from anyone." Alex's heart breaks a little.

"It's not necessarily fifty-fifty. You heard Flynn talking to Julie's dad about this a couple weeks ago, right? It sounded like she mostly likes girls, too, but she still likes guys sometimes, and--what was that word?"

"Non-binary," Reggie supplies. "I think she said 'genderqueer,' too." He grins again and taps his knuckles against Alex's leg. "How awesome is it Julie's dad is so cool that even her friend can talk to him about stuff like this?"

"Really awesome, Reg," Alex says, returning his smile. He gives it a month, maybe five weeks, until Reggie realizes his fixation with Julie's dad is a crush.

"Alright, so, I guess...I guess I'm bisexual, then."

"Cool, man," Alex says, putting his arm around Reggie's shoulders the same way Reggie did to him all those years ago, albeit with less aggressive enthusiasm. "This doesn't--"

"But what if it's just Luke?" Reggie says abruptly. The blush on his face, which had paled in the past few minutes, returns with immediate and full force, and he snaps his head away from Alex, like he can hide it if he's staring at his knees instead. "Not that I have, like, a crush on Luke! Or anything like that! Just. You know. The in-my-face thing. What if it was just that?"

Alex--well. Alex is actually about ninety percent certain that every person who's ever met Luke has a crush on him. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he has chemistry with everyone. Some people are just _like that_ , and Alex may have died before he turned eighteen but he still knows Luke, even as a ghost, is one of those people. Maybe the _ultimate_ one of those people.

It's easily the most annoying thing about him.

Alex resists the awkward cough that he would usually give at this point in a conversation and instead squeezes Reggie's shoulder. Reggie looks at him again, easy and trusting, and Alex smiles and opens his mouth, but he's not sure what to say. He's heard about situational homosexuality, but he doesn't think that same logic really applies to bisexuality, and honestly, he's known Reggie is bi since they were fifteen, but he also knows you can't just _say that_ when people come out or it feels dismissive. He closes his mouth, bites his lip for a second, and decides to try again.

"Maybe you--"

"We should kiss!" Reggie exclaims, smacking at Alex's knee. "You and me! So I can be sure!"

Alex's brain comes stuttering to a slow halt, trying to make sense of what he just heard. Dumbfounded, his mouth hangs open and his eyes go wide, then narrow, then wide again. Reggie has the eager look of an excited puppy all over his face, and Alex feels like he's been hit over the head with a guitar.

It's the exact same look that Luke wears when he's just gotten an idea he's already sinking his teeth into before Alex even has a chance to talk him out of it, before Reggie can get talked into going along with it. It's the look that nearly got Luke's own ankle broken when they jumped off the roof of Alex's house at fourteen. It's the look that almost got Reggie arrested for vandalism when they spray painted what turned out to be a total stranger's garage door with the Sunset Curve name and logo. It's the fucking look that said, "Hey, you guys saw that street dog stand a block away, right? Let's get some after rehearsal!" And they all know how that turned out.

The thing is, though, some of the ideas that've come from that look...were really good.

Alex just has no way of knowing which one this is.

"Wh--what?" he finally says. Reggie nods excitedly, grin fully set. Alex blinks rapidly and shakes his head a little, desperate to get his train of thought running again. "Wait. What?"

"Yeah, dude!" Reggie says. "I should take this bi thing for a test run, right? Why not with you?" Alex moves his arm from around Reggie's shoulders, feeling his own go tense, painful knots settling in. 

"I mean, if it's just for convenience, I don't--"

"It's not like that!" Reggie says. There's a flash of worry in his eyes, but it disappears just before he squeezes Alex's knee. "Come on, dude. You're hot--" Alex jerks his head back in surprise. "--and you're my best friend. I should do this with someone I trust, shouldn't I?"

A weird low breath escapes from Alex's throat as he presses his hands over his eyes, hard enough to make him see spots behind his eyelids. There's a stiffness in his jaw that's threatening to give him a headache. How is it even fair that ghosts can get headaches?

"Reggie, I don't--"

"If you don't want to kiss me, that's--that's okay," Reggie says with a reassuring tone, but Alex doesn't have to be looking at him to see the hurt in the frown that lingers for a second too long, the uncertainty in that barely there furrow of the corner of his right eyebrow.

"No, no, I d--that's not what I'm trying to say," Alex promises. He sighs and relaxes his hands, but keeps them in place, covering his eyes, hiding his discomfort, or at least attempting to. "I just don't think I'm--I've never _done this_." He drops his hands to his lap and frowns down at his shoes. The back of his neck warms with embarrassment. "Not just with a guy. With _anyone_."

"You never kissed anyone?" Reggie says after a silent moment.

"I never got around to it," Alex says. Not even bothering to hide his misery anymore, he throws his head back to rest on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's not like I ever got a chance anyway. Look, I think it's probably good for you to kiss someone, if you think you should, to be sure about this, but I--I'm not the guy for it. Maybe Luke--"

"But I want it to be you," Reggie says softly. Alex takes a breath, opens his eyes and raises his head, looking at Reggie, whose expression is open as ever, earnest and trusting and sweet. He swallows and hazards a quick glance down at Reggie's mouth, but it apparently wasn't quick enough to go unnoticed. Reggie's smirk is small and unacknowledged and reminds Alex of something that broke through the spiraling in his brain a minute ago.

"Hey," he says, poking Reggie's knee, bare in the usual ripped black jeans. "You really think I'm hot?" Reggie's smirk morphs seamlessly into the same smile that called him awesome and talented all the time when they were alive, but never _hot_.

"Of course," Reggie says. He glances down at Alex's mouth and back up to meet his eyes again. It's not nearly as quick as when Alex did it.

"Okay, then," Alex says, ignoring the way his breath stutters and hoping Reggie doesn't notice. He shrugs one shoulder, the tightness of his muscles proclaiming that his hope of being totally casual about this totally casual situation is not getting fulfilled. He clears his throat and licks his lips. A pleased little coil of heat or something like it flutters low in his stomach when Reggie's eyes drop again to follow the movement of his tongue. "I mean, I'd hate to be a bad friend."

"Cool," Reggie says softly. He blinks his gaze back up to meet Alex's. "Cool."

_Now or never_ , Alex thinks, and as he shifts closer to Reggie, Luke's rough voice twists in his memory, an echo in an empty Orpheum. He's pretty sure this isn't what any of them had in mind when they wrote "Now or Never," but, well. _All the times we fell behind were just the keys to paradise._

He leans toward Reggie and reaches out to rest his hand around the nape of his neck, curving his fingers and sliding two up into the short hair there at the base of his skull. He shifts closer again and pulls Reggie forward to meet him. Reggie liked when Luke did this, so this is probably how he wants to be kissed. Nothing Alex can't handle. 

He's moving in for the kiss, their faces inches from each other's, when Reggie brings his hand up to Alex's jaw and stops him with a soft, "Hey, hey." There's amusement in his tone and Alex gets a spike of panic up his spine, the Absolute Worst Case Scenario thought that Reggie was just joking all along, but when he lifts his gaze from Reggie's mouth to his eyes, he's relieved and surprised at the tenderness filling them.

"This is your first kiss," Reggie says, a smile playing on his lips. Alex glances down to follow the up and down and up and wonders if Reggie will smile when they kiss, if he'll be able to feel it, if his smile has a taste.

"And?" Alex says. He kinda wants to really get on with it at this point.

" _And_ that means you gotta get the whole ideal first kiss thing," says Reggie. "I want this to be good for you, too, you know. Let me lead a little on this one, okay?" 

Alex doesn't know what exactly _the whole ideal first kiss thing_ means, but he does know that _this one_ implies it won't be the only one, which must be what makes the electricity in his brain snap into a surge and cause him to whisper, "Yeah, okay." _Face first, full charge._

Reggie's smile fades a little, slowly, and Alex gets the confusing impression that it's deliberate. Then Reggie brings their faces even closer, and adrenaline pounds brutally through Alex, ready for the kiss, but it...doesn't happen. Their mouths are _impossibly_ close but their lips aren't _touching_ and Alex thinks he might die _again_ when Reggie finally, _finally_ \--brushes his lips over Alex's, in something that's still not a kiss but is--god, it _is_ the kind of ideal first kiss thing that Alex always thought only happened in movies, or, if it did happen in real life, only happened to girls.

Alex can _feel it_ when Reggie licks his own bottom lip because that's how close they are. The torturous flick of his tongue catches Alex's lip, too, sending a spark through his whole body. As he watches Reggie's eyelids flutter shut, Alex wonders if he felt it, too. He swallows, and Reggie's thumb mimics the movement just below his jaw, slipping over the pulse point in his neck, and Alex sucks in a breath, and then--

Reggie's lips are soft on his, and surprisingly still at first, easing him into this new kind of touch. It's not until Alex closes his eyes that Reggie finally moves, his mouth sliding smoothly over Alex's, and slowly parts his lips. Alex is grateful for Reggie's hand still firmly on his jaw, keeping him anchored and steady even as Reggie's tongue flicks out again - this time to lick _Alex's_ bottom lip, on _purpose_ \- and threatens to make Alex's brain melt from the sensation, from the sparks firing in every corner of his head.

Time, for ghosts, doesn't seem to pass quite the normal way, but Alex thinks he'd still lose track of it like this even if they weren't dead. He doesn't know how long they've been kissing when they part. He just knows that he's breathless - which is also a murky area, as far as ghosts go - and that Reggie's tongue was in his mouth and now isn't. He stares at Reggie's lips, red and even fuller than usual. There are places inside his mouth still tingling from Reggie's touch, and he finds himself tracing them with his own tongue. He lets out a choked little exhale as Reggie rests their foreheads together, a moment of something like romance, and he realizes that Reggie's almost gasping for air, too. _Catch up - got no time to catch my breath._

"Good?" Reggie asks quietly, moving away just enough to look down at Alex's mouth and lick his own lips again. Alex swallows.

"Yeah. Really good." Reggie meets his eyes, eyebrows raised, and smiles, close lipped and more than a little smug, and Alex can't even be mad about it. The guy deserves to feel smug. Not that Alex has anything to compare it to, but it was a _damn_ good kiss.

"Wanna do it again?" Alex asks. "I mean, no pressure, if you don't want to--"

"Of course I want to," Reggie says. His smile is less smug now, mostly endeared. His eyes are bright and happy. If Alex's brain was functioning on full capacity, he'd be smiling back - this is his favorite offstage Reggie - but he's well and truly occupied with other thoughts. Eloquent ones, like _mouth mouth lips tongue mouth_ , which will probably never make it to his lyrics notebook, and thank god for that.

It's the splotches of red on Reggie's face that remind him how this whole thing started, how this is all meant to be for _Reggie_ , for him to figure himself out more completely. Alex shakes his head and opens his mouth to ask if Reggie liked kissing him, if it helped at all, but then Reggie's hand is on his thigh.

"You know, you might be more comfortable if you just…." Reggie's hand slides so his fingers are wrapped around Alex's inner thigh, so he can pull Alex's leg toward him. 

"Yeah, whatever you think," Alex blurts out, stupidly eager, but Reggie doesn't call him on it, just applies a steady pressure. Alex relaxes, lets himself be moved until he's got one leg bent at the knee and resting on the couch, his body turned more toward Reggie. He holds his left ankle with both hands, a hard and only slightly nervous grip, and taps his right foot on the floor in a gone but not forgotten rhythm. _We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain._

"The good news is the second kiss doesn't have to be so slow. We can change it up now," Reggie says lowly. He still hasn't moved his hand from Alex's thigh.

"Thank you, by the way," Alex says. Reggie lifts one eyebrow, a question in his eyes. "For making my first kiss--for giving me the whole, you know, ideal thing." Reggie's smile turns sweet and sympathetic.

"You should've been able to get it while you were still alive," he says, "but…." He gives a proud nod. "I'm honored it was me." Alex can't help but smile at that, ducking his head down before looking back up at Reggie through his lashes. Reggie swallows and licks his lips again, and now it's Alex's turn to feel smug.

"The second kiss can be different, huh? I can take the lead this time?" he asks with a teasing sort of lilt in his voice. Reggie’s eyes go wide.

“Yeah, if you--” Reggie starts, voice high, then clears his throat and swallows again. “Anything you want.” Alex tries to be a good friend and bite back his smirk, but it’s hard. Turns out it feels _good_ to get someone else flustered. He gets it now, why Luke has that cocky look on his face so often.

Their second kiss _is_ different. Alex closes the space between them this time, and when Reggie kisses him back it’s with some force, both hands holding Alex’s face now, fingers curved around the back of his neck, thumbs rubbing absently over the pulse points under his jaw. Alex shivers with the touch and bites at Reggie’s bottom lip. In the second it takes him to jerk away to apologize, Reggie lets out a low groan, grabs him by the front of his hoodie and yanks him back instead. Alex finds himself laughing into Reggie’s mouth.

“Learning all sorts of things about yourself today, aren’t you?” he says. Reggie huffs.

“Actually knew that already.” He pulls away from Alex, breathless and red-faced, licks his lips and quietly adds, “Kissing Stephanie Nelson at Morgan Kellar’s Sweet Sixteen wasn’t as fun as this is, though.” Alex’s expression softens, his smirk turning into a surprised, uncertain smile.

“Really?” He rolls his eyes at himself, but Reggie moves to place his hand around the back of Alex’s neck again and strokes his fingers just below his hairline. It’s an innocent gesture of reassurance, Alex thinks, but it renders him embarrassingly speechless anyway. 

“Wanna see if you like it, too?” Reggie asks, and Alex, still a little dazed from Reggie’s fingers tracing shapes on the back of his neck, nods before he can fully comprehend what he’s agreeing to beyond another kiss, and Reggie doesn’t waste any time to let it sink in. Leaning forward and pulling Alex closer by his hoodie again all at once, their third kiss kicks off with enough immediate passion that it makes Alex’s head spin, and then Reggie bites at Alex’s bottom lip. A strangled moan stumbles out of Alex’s mouth at the jolt. It would be so fucking mortifying if Reggie didn’t just swallow the sound, but he does - _such a good friend_ , Alex thinks, through a haze from the fog machine that’s replaced his brain - and then Alex gets a warm feeling of delight at the discovery that he _can_ feel Reggie smile against his lips.

When they pull apart this time, breaths coming fast and heavy between them, the hand on Alex’s sweatshirt drifts lower, palm flattening over Alex’s chest. Reggie’s still for a few moments before he begins tapping out a quick rhythm with his fingertips. It takes Alex six entire deep breaths to realize that it’s his heartbeat.

“So weird, huh?” Reggie murmurs. “We’re dead. We shouldn’t have heartbeats, but--” He takes Alex’s hand and places it on his own chest, over his own heart. Alex can feel it, through the thin material of Reggie’s white t-shirt, pounding just as wildly as his. He raises his eyes to meet Reggie’s, dark and dazed and happy, and hears Luke’s voice again, growling and confident and excited. _Electric hammer to the heart._

Alex stops counting after that, stops trying to get even a loose hold on how much ghostly time is passing. Reggie keeps doing things with his tongue that make Alex dizzy, and Alex keeps mimicking him and getting rewarded with little satisfied hums and gasps. Every time Alex thinks he might be getting a handle on things, that his brain might be back in place and catching up to everything, Reggie uses his teeth on his bottom lip and sends him reeling again. He feels totally insane for it, but he can’t believe he never kissed Reggie before now. Why weren’t they doing this when they were alive? They could’ve been making out all over this studio, in the backseat of the van Bobby may have kinda stolen, against every brick wall in every questionable alley outside every shitty club before and after their sets. _One life, no regrets_ , blah blah, sure, but damn, what a waste.

He’s somehow ended up half in Reggie’s lap, knees bracketing Reggie’s thigh, back straight and shoulders curved inward so Reggie has to tip his head back to meet his kiss - not that Alex is giving him much room to meet in the middle, considering how firmly he’s holding Reggie’s face with both his hands - when a familiar soft noise shoots a shock of terror through him. He's off Reggie in a flash.

"I've been thinking about it, and Julie sounded pretty serious when she told me we couldn't visit during the camping trip, so I think we shouldn't risk it," Luke is saying, spinning as he walks around the piano in that animated way he does when he's really psyched about something, "but we _do_ have free reign of the TV while they're gone, and there's this movie she said I _have_ to watch - _School of Rock_ , I think it's called - and--" He stops, close enough now to finally get a good look at Alex and Reggie, and blinks at them.

Hands clenched into tight fists on his legs and spine frozen ramrod straight, Alex stares directly ahead, which means his gaze lands somewhere in the range of Julie's microphone low in its stand beside her piano bench. But he knows that, beside him, matching his own flushed face and kiss-swollen mouth, Reggie is meeting Luke's eyes, bold in a way that would send a bolt of electricity down Alex's back if he wasn't focusing every ounce of his energy on _not moving a muscle_.

"Were you two…." Luke trails off, pointing in a vague gesture between Alex and Reggie.

"Were we what?" Reggie asks. There's a hint of a dare in his voice. Alex's foot starts shaking nervously, entirely outside his control. Luke narrows his eyes. 

"You two were just making out," he says. Alex estimates, off the top of his head, that Luke's tone is about twenty-five percent accusatory, thirty-five percent awe, and forty percent disbelief. His jaw is beginning to hurt. He wishes he didn't know now what Reggie's hands feel like there.

"You two were making out," Luke repeats, louder this time, and Alex looks up to see Luke's head tilted like he's trying to make sense of the words. Then Luke blinks and straightens out, his eyes widening as his expression turns stern. "You two were making out _on my couch_!"

"Hey, just because you slept on it the most doesn't make it only _your_ \--"

"I was just helping him!" Alex blurts out, loud enough to make Reggie and Luke both jump. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his stomach. "I was helping him, you know, um, figure himself out."

"Oh, yeah," Reggie says lightly, turning back toward Luke. "It turns out I'm bi!" His smile and joyful proclamation join forces to catch Luke off guard and make him return the grin, and then he adds, "The 'B' in 'LGBTQ' stands for 'bassist.'" Alex snaps his head around to look at Reggie's dopey, delighted face.

"I've been kissing you for ten minutes and you were just sitting on that the whole time, weren't you?" he asks, at least mildly horrified. Luke scoffs.

"Oh, Alex, by the look of things, you guys got way past ten minutes." If Alex didn't know any better, he'd say Luke sounded almost...jealous. 

"I thought of it right before our second kiss," Reggie says to Alex, "but I thought you might stop wanting to kiss me if I said it out loud."

"Well, you were right. I definitely would have," Alex says stubbornly, but it's a lie, and everyone in the room knows it.

"Anyway, congratulations, man. I'm proud of you, Reg," Luke says, giving Reggie a sincere smile. It's the same one he gave Alex in '93. Alex can't help but smile at that, too, his shoulders lowering as the tension in his body softens.

"Thanks, dude," Reggie says, grinning back at Luke. "Feels good."

"I hope you weren't, like, agonizing over it," Luke adds quietly. He glances at Alex, eyes full of the same ache of empathy he's looked at Alex with every time they've talked about or around this since he came out to them.

Luke always knew it was never about him - he's never tried to make Alex's story about himself - but he did take it personally, the instant understanding about what had been causing Alex to hate himself so much, and the realization that if Luke had noticed earlier then maybe he could've saved Alex a year or two of all the shit he internalized. He left band practice that day and went directly to a local music store, bought four patches and a t-shirt with money he'd been saving for weeks to replace a busted amp. He sewed a patch on his own denim jacket himself because he didn't want to tell his mom if Alex wasn't ready for anyone else to know, and when he came to school the next day, his fingertips were freckled with tiny specks of red where he kept poking himself with the needle as he tried to thread the it into place on the shoulder: a big pink triangle scrawled over with a Harvey Milk quote. He spent the day sewing matching patches onto Bobby's sweaty bandana and Reggie's old flannel, getting in trouble in almost every class, and when Alex was too scared to accept the fourth patch, Luke had simply given him the David Bowie shirt and sewn the extra patch onto the elbow of his own jacket: a coat hanger circled by _Closets Are For Clothes_.

It's been twenty-seven years and non-discrimination laws are in place all over, marriage equality is a thing, Don't Ask Don't Tell has been repealed, and AIDS is no longer a guaranteed death sentence, but Alex is certain that if Reggie so much as hints that he spent any time feeling bad about being bisexual, Luke is going to have all their clothes decked out in bi pride slogans and tri-colored triangles by this time tomorrow.

"Nah, I just never really thought about it much," Reggie says with a shrug. He puts his hand on Alex's knee and squeezes. "Alex talked me through it."

"Uh-huh," says Luke, and there's that slight tone of jealousy again. Alex turns to him, curious, to see the telltale twisting of his mouth that always means Luke is trying really, _really_ hard not to full-on pout. Huh.

"It's kinda poetic, actually," Reggie continues happily, "because it started with you and ended with Alex. Seems fitting, doesn't it?" Luke's eyes widen for just a moment, eyebrows raising and lowering in half a second, and his twitching mouth goes still in the form of a smirk. Alex swallows, unclenches his hands and flattens his sweaty palms over his jeans, his left hand inches away from Reggie's. 

"It started with _me_?" Luke asks, taking a step forward. His voice is all faux innocence now, charming, like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. But he knows, and Alex knows, and Reggie is earnest and blissfully unaware of the danger he's courting when he answers.

"Yeah! When you were trying to prove you had chemistry with everybody you sing with." He mimes it then, the hand around the back of his head, the kissing fingers, and all the while Luke's smirk becomes more and more pronounced as he steps closer and closer, ghosting his way through the table between himself and the couch.

"Oh yeah," Luke says with a smile and a breathy little laugh, as if he'd forgotten, just before his expression falls into something more open, more casual. "Well, you know, if you really wanted it to be, like, _full_ full circle, you and me could kiss, too." 

Reggie squeezes Alex’s knee so hard it makes his whole leg jerk.

“Uhhhmm!” Reggie says, the high pitch of his voice matching the siren sound squealing away inside Alex’s skull. 

“I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I have no doubt Alex is a great kisser.” Luke kicks his shoe against Alex’s and gives him a wink. Alex huffs out a laugh but narrows his eyes.

“He is!” Reggie says, then turns to Alex and repeats, “You are! I mean, I hope that’s obvious, because, you know--” He gestures something vague and confusing while Alex and Luke stare and blink at him. “And not just for a beginner, either! You’re good, _period_.”

“Thank you, Reggie,” Alex says, patting Reggie’s leg. 

“So you don’t think I’d be as good?” Luke says quietly. Reggie whips his head around to look at him, but Alex follows more slowly, amazed to see that Luke's turned the full force of his big eyes and pouty mouth up to eleven and directly onto Reggie. Alex shakes his head in disbelief, unable to keep the shadow of a smile off his face. This is impressive, even for Luke.

"Of course I think you're a good kisser!" Reggie's reply is urgent and sincere and totally devoid of the frantic insistence that would be spilling from someone who had any sense of self-preservation. "It wasn't that! It's just, you know, you're not…." 

"I'm not what?" Luke asks. Still quiet, still pouty, still wide-eyed. Alex doesn't want to take his eyes off him, but Reggie makes a sudden movement that steals his attention for just long enough to see that Reggie's only now realized how _close_ Luke is standing: knees to Reggie's knees. Reggie blinks up at Luke, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

"You're not--you're not gay," Reggie says. "Right?" Luke smiles with one corner of his mouth. 

"No, I'm not gay." Luke stands there, smiling down at Reggie looking up at him, giving him nothing. Alex looks from Reggie to Luke and back, envious of both of them for reasons that keep eluding him.

"And you're not bi," Reggie says finally. Luke pauses before shrugging, a soft look in his eyes that's too thoughtful to be insincere.

"I don't think labels are really _for_ me," he says, which feels like such a 2020 thing to say. "I'm happy you found one for you, though." Reggie blinks.

"So you--but you--" When Reggie shakes his head, his shoulders shake with it. "So you would _want_ to kiss me," he says, trying to make it make sense to himself, "because you're…." Luke shrugs again.

"I'm whatever," he says, and then he does the worst and most inevitable thing he could possibly do. He straddles Reggie, knees tight in the space around Reggie's splayed thighs, and presses his hands hard into the back of the couch. It has the undeniable effect of showing off his flexed arm muscles mere inches from Reggie's face, and also of snapping a gravitational pull into being: Alex could swear all the air in the studio just abruptly shifted its attention on the three of them.

"O--okay," Reggie says, swallowing and not taking his eyes off Luke's very close face, "but, um. I don't think there's a W in the acronym. Alex, is there a W in the acronym?"

"There's no W in the acronym," Alex confirms. 

"There's no W in the acronym," Reggie repeats, as if Luke didn't hear. Luke smirks and lowers his head, inching closer to Reggie.

"That's okay. I don't need a letter," he says. "My two boys have 'em. That's more than enough for me."

"Very progressive of you," Alex says pointedly, "but it kinda _seems_ , right now, like you do want something more." Luke glances over to meet his eyes so that Alex can see the mischief glittering in them. He bites back an endeared grin and shakes his head as Luke looks back at Reggie.

" _Do_ you want something more?" Reggie asks, head tipped back to look up at Luke. He swallows again. "From me?" Alex leans back a little, anticipating, waiting, feeling his heartbeat way up at the base of his throat.

"I just wanna finish what I started. It'd be rude not to, after all," Luke says. He dips his head further, his forehead nearly touching Reggie's, their mouths as close as when they share a mic. Alex will never be able to watch them perform like that again without thinking of this moment, but they probably won't be about to perform like that without thinking of this either, so at least they'll all be united in the agony.

"I guess it would be, yeah," Reggie says, not seeming to have any idea what to do with his hands and finally settling for punching down into the couch cushions. 

"Is this okay?" Luke asks, low and sincere, his eyes searching Reggie's for the truth. Reggie nods, uncharacteristically silent, like Luke has stolen the sound right from his vocal chords before their mouths even touch, and Luke just smiles at him for a moment before kissing him.

Alex doesn’t know exactly what it looked like when he was kissing Reggie, but _fuck_ , he hopes it looked as good as this. Luke starts slow, yeah, but confident in a way Alex doesn’t think he’s ever felt - except for maybe when _he_ was kissing Reggie, toward the end, when he was almost in Luke’s exact position. But Alex thinks Luke probably feels this confident all the time, otherwise he wouldn’t have _started_ with biting Reggie’s lip. The sound Reggie makes - a _whimper_ , holy shit - sets something alight low low _low_ in Alex’s belly, and when Reggie’s right hand flails at his side, like he’s not sure if or where he’s allowed to touch Luke, Alex grabs it without thinking, interlocking their fingers. Reggie squeezes so hard that Alex gasps and Luke _smirks_ against Reggie’s lips. Alex’s mouth waters. 

When Luke finally pulls away, Reggie follows, chasing the kiss, and jealousy sparks inside Alex in that same low place as before. It’s not technically an unfamiliar feeling - Alex spent the better part of his living adolescence being jealous of every straight guy he knew, of every kid his age who could get through the day without anxiety attacks - but it’s never felt like _this_. This feels like smoldering embers threatening to fan into a wildfire flame. This feels like--like--playing with matches. Blinking through the smoke of his arousal, the haze in Alex’s vision clears enough for him to register that Luke is looking steadily at him now, all that attention and mischief turned on him while Reggie strains to catch his breath. 

“Hey, Alex,” Luke says, voice smooth. He runs his fingers through his hair in a cocky motion he usually only reserves for the stage, for when he knows it’ll make girls scream for him, and Alex _gets_ those girls now. “I know you said being rude is so ‘90s, and I don’t wanna be unfair, you know? So if you wanna get in on this, just let me know.” His smile is crooked and smug and so fucking unbeliveably hot and Alex wants to kiss it off his face.

Luke always just takes what he wants from the world. Sunset Curve really _would_ have become legends, if the three of them had lived to play the Orpheum, and most of their legendary status would have been due to Luke’s sheer force of will. Luke sees and wants and takes, and Alex has always admired him for that, and now Alex is looking at Luke, _wanting_ , and instead of rolling his eyes, or scoffing, or shrugging it off, Alex decides, for the first time in his--well, not his _life_ , but--he decides to just...take.

He leans over toward Luke and reaches for him, pulls him in with one hand on the back of his head. There’s less than a second for Alex to see a look of surprise register on Luke’s face before he’s closing his eyes and meeting Luke’s mouth with his own. It’s a little clumsy at first - their teeth clack together in the beginning, which makes Alex flinch - but in moments Luke has apparently recovered from the shock of Alex just fucking going for it. He leans in, hunching his shoulders toward Alex, and releases Reggie to grab hold of his face with both hands. His mouth is warm and wet and his lips are soft and full and Alex is dizzy with the realization that he was also jealous of every girl he saw Luke kissing at parties in high school, before they got serious about the band.

Luke kisses the same way he does everything else, the way Alex hoped he would: with singular intensity and focus, like he exists for nothing except this, like if he stops he’ll die. It's how he plays music and how he writes lyrics and how he looks at Julie and now and forever Alex is going to be burdened with the knowledge that it's also how he kisses. Or at least it's how he kisses Alex and how he kisses Reggie. _My boys_ , he said minutes ago, and Alex has never been into the whole possessiveness thing, but. Well. He wasn't wrong, and he's as much theirs as they are his, and this - Luke kissing Alex like it makes him feel alive, Luke's legs still splayed over Reggie's lap like leaving would be torture - kinda just proves it.

"Um, sorry to interrupt," Reggie says suddenly, thickly. The sound of his voice, all ragged and breathy, stokes the heat still smoldering below Alex's navel, sending up dangerous sparks. Reggie is the one thing that could make Luke and Alex part at this point, but they're still reluctant, and it's only when he shifts his gaze from Luke's unbelievable mouth to Reggie's face that Alex learns it's worth the pause.

Reggie looks like he's been clocked over the head with his own bass. He's staring at them wide-eyed and open-mouthed, face so flushed with blotchy reds and pinks it makes Alex concerned about whether enough blood is getting around the rest of his body before he remembers that's a non-issue. Luke leans away from Alex again and clears his throat a little, runs his hand through his hair once more and licks his lips, and looks at Reggie with dark, half-lidded eyes. He might not know exactly what he looks like right now, but he knows exactly what he's doing. If Alex had Luke's face, he'd be doing the same thing.

"Feeling left out, Reg?" Luke asks, just a hint of teasing in his tone, with a promise to follow through beneath it. Reggie swallows and lets out a thin, breathless laugh.

"No--well, I--maybe," he answers. He glances at Alex and then down at their hands, making Alex realize with a jolt that Reggie's still been clasping his left hand this whole time, hard enough to maybe break if they had actual bones. He moves to untangle their fingers, but then decides he doesn't want to, so he just relaxes his own grip a little instead. He's pretty sure now, with his chest heaving for air again and the trace of teeth on his bottom lip, that he was jealous of the girls he saw _Reggie_ kissing at parties, too.

"I just thought maybe you'd, uh, want to, um," Reggie stammers, looking back up at Luke, his face going even redder. "I mean--you should probably move, buddy, or else things are, uh, going to get awkward." He glances down between them, so Alex and Luke both follow, and Alex has time to think, _Oh. He’s hard_ , and then, _Wait._ I’m _hard_ , before it otherwise instantly occurs to him what _Luke_ is thinking. He snaps his head up to see Luke looking back at Reggie’s blushing face, his smirk practically glowing and basically feral, and feels his own neck warming, heat spreading down his chest below his hoodie. The air in this small space around them is so mockingly humid he wonders if it’s more ghost magic, or if it would have felt like this even if they were alive and doing this.

“Reggie, uh,” Alex says, swallowing past the lump in his throat and elbowing Reggie as gently as he can manage, “you gotta be more specific about _how_ he should move, or _where_ , you know, because--” but it’s too late. Luke is already moving, slow and smooth and natural.

Luke grinds his hips very. Deliberately. Down.

Reggie lets out a high-pitched shuddering whimper, so loud that Alex almost misses the gasp that escapes Luke’s mouth. It’s so quick and quiet Alex thinks for a moment that he might’ve imagined it, but there’s no imagining the look of shock on Luke’s face. Staring wide-eyed down between him and Reggie, it’s obvious Luke was just trying to rile him up, that he had no idea it would feel good for _him_ , too. Alex’s cock throbs in painfully hard sympathy. Luke is overwhelmed right now, and Alex should be a good friend and ignore his own dick to counsel Luke through this. Sure, he’s all _whatever_ , and real cool and label-free and 2020 about it, but there’s a difference between knowledge and the exercise of it, between knowing, _Yeah, I’m into whoever, you know,_ and actually grinding down on your best friend’s lap while he’s hard and you probably are, too. And now that best friend is essentially out of commission, judging by the impressively dazed expression on Reggie’s face, and Alex is Luke’s best friend, too, so, yes, he should throw a bucket of ice water on this whole thing, he should be a responsible person and a considerate friend. 

It’s just that...If he stops this, it stops, and maybe forever. They’ll spend eternity or whatever this is together, and Reggie will always be a tiny bit embarrassed by this part at the end of it while Luke will be _in-fucking-sufferable_ about this part at the end of it and Alex will be expected to pretend this part at the end of it never happened, and it’ll royally _suck_. He knows what he wants right now, with the kind of stunning clarity that he rarely experienced in life, and he’s...he’s pretty sure he’s about to just take it - for the second time, in just like, five minutes or something, and it’s possible Luke’s enthusiasm isn’t the only infectious thing about him - he’s just not sure _how_.

But then he catches sight of where Luke’s hand is gripping Reggie’s shoulder, sees his wrist trembling, and through all the blood that may or may not be surging through the ghost veins that may or may not exist, Alex hears his own voice singing over the drumbeat pounding around his ears: _We got all we need today._ He smiles, something mischievous uncurling sweetly in his stomach, and untangles his fingers from Reggie’s grip before placing his hand high up on Luke’s thigh.

Luke’s hips buck at Alex’s touch, making Reggie moan low and honey-thick this time. Alex savors the delicious feeling of accomplishment at destabilizing the menace of Luke’s smugness, the hungry pride accompanied by simply making Reggie fall apart. He must be smirking about it, though, his fingers twitching as he slides his hand a little higher, because Luke makes a hissing sort of frustrated noise, and Alex has enough time to look up and see the almost snarl on his face before Luke is leaning toward him again, eliciting another moan from Reggie, who bucks his hips on reflex, which cuts off whatever revenge plan Luke seems to have had in mind at the knees as he gasps again and groans, teeth grinding, his grip tightening on Reggie’s shoulder. Alex taps out a soft, simple, 1-2 beat just below the where the chain hangs from Luke’s belt loop, and bites his lip, putting so little effort into holding back his smile that he actually giggles.

“Shut _up_ ,” Luke grits out, which makes Alex laugh again, but then Reggie’s shushing them.

“Well, not you, Alex,” Reggie says thinly. “You’re great. You have amazing ideas.” He smiles lazily at Alex, and the sight of flushed face and darkened gaze makes Alex grin back. Reggie looks up at Luke again and asks, leading but earnest as ever, “You feel good, right? This is okay?” Luke takes a few harsh breaths through his nose, stubbornly clenching his jaw, before he nods tightly. Reggie’s smile fades into a sweet little heart-warming shape and he tilts his chin up, just enough to nudge his nose against Luke’s. The move brings out a real smile on Luke, something easy and loose that cracks the mood of the room like a window, the air instantly becoming a little less suffocating.

“Don’t be mean to Alex,” Reggie murmurs. “He’s so great.” Luke sighs against his lips.

“Fine,” he says dramatically. He kisses the tip of Reggie’s nose - Reggie’s smile widens, pleased - and rests their foreheads together as he turns to look at Alex, who’s feeling less smug now and more...just...loved. Loved and loving. “Sorry, Alex,” Luke says in a fake reluctant apology voice. Alex smiles and shrugs.

“’s all good,” he says. 

“So how do my kissing skills compare to Reggie’s?” Luke asks. Alex huffs out a laugh.

“Well--”

“Hey, it’s been awhile since I kissed him!” Reggie says, moving his head back to give Luke a defensive, furrowed look. “You _just_ kissed him.”

“So what?” Luke makes a face.

“Reggie’s more, like, playful,” Alex says thoughtfully. “And Luke is--well.” He looks at Reggie. “You know how Luke is.”

“Intense,” Reggie says with wide eyes, nodding.

“Dude, you don’t think I can be playful?” Luke raises his eyebrows. His smile threatens to turn into a smirk. Alex narrows his eyes and taps his fingers over Luke’s thigh again.

“I didn’t say that,” he says. Luke bites his lip, glancing down at Alex’s hand on his leg.

“I can be just as intense as Luke,” Reggie says. Alex has his doubts.

“I’m sure you--” he starts, but Reggie cuts him off with a kiss, circling his hand around the back of Alex’s neck and pulling him close. It _is_ intense, more so than how the two of them started earlier - this is more like they skipped all the introductions and went right for the good stuff. Alex’s hand flexes on Luke’s thigh - _he_ wants to be in Reggie’s lap now, this isn’t _fair_ \- and he’s about to--he’s not sure. Maybe push Luke _out_ of Reggie’s lap so he can crawl into it instead? But then there’s warmth on his neck, and a sharp nip of teeth, and he gasps, a loud moan escaping from the back of his throat as he shakes all down his spine.

“What was that? Was that your idea of being playful?” Reggie asks. He pulls away from Alex’s mouth, but thankfully keeps his hand there at his neck, a steadying presence as Alex tries to figure out what the fuck just happened and how can it happen again, right now, immediately.

“No, that was retaliation,” Luke says, his grin evident in his tone. Alex shakes his head, blinking fast.

"Did you just _bite_ me?"

"If you wanna get technical, he bit your _neck_ ," Reggie says helpfully.

"And you _liked it_ , didn't you? I _knew_ you would," Luke says. His expression is all narrowed focus and eager appetite. Alex feels lightheaded as he places his hand gingerly to his neck, to the spot on the right side of his Adam's apple where Luke left a stinging reminder. Alex's skin there is only faintly wet, and he just wants more more _more_. 

"H--how did you know I'd like that?" Alex asks. Reggie laughs.

"You always get the shivers when we touch your neck, like, at all," he says, like it's so obvious. He exchanges a look with Luke. "I mean, that was your logic, right? Same reason I've been keeping my hands on his jaw and stuff." Luke hums, nodding slowly.

"You do have kind of a real tell, dude," he says to Alex.

"You could've been _kissing my neck_ this whole time and you _haven't been_?" Alex asks Reggie. 

"Hey, it started out with your first kiss! This has been a big day for you! I didn't wanna push," Reggie says. He raises his left hand defensively, but with the hand still at the back of Alex's neck, he begins stroking his fingers underneath Alex's hairline again. Alex fights a shudder but fails miserably.

"Yeah, hickeys are sort of an advanced move," Luke says, his eyes roaming hungrily over Alex's neck. "Also, you're wearing a hoodie. Not exactly easy access." So Alex moves abruptly, shifting away from Reggie and Luke, up on his feet, to rip his hoodie off over his head. He throws it down somewhere, maybe near the piano bench, who cares, and sits back down on the couch with a heavy bounce.

"Okay, well, put me in, Coach, or whatever," he says, breathless even though it's been a full minute since anyone kissed him, and he doesn't even have time to feel awkward about it because Luke's mouth is on his neck in seconds. It's all soft lips and sharp teeth and warm tongue over skin so sensitive it just makes his whole body shake, feverish and maybe delirious, and all of that is _before_ Reggie kisses him again.

Reggie swallows every moan and whine and plea, every sound that'll embarrass Alex whenever this does end, however it ends, and he seems eager to do it, like he's not gotten bored yet of kissing Alex, like he maybe never will. For all Reggie thinks Alex has had good ideas today, this - _all of this_ \- is because of a sexuality crisis and a sweet heart and a persuasive mind, and Alex couldn't possibly thank him enough even if he got down on his knees right now and--

Alex's breath and brain both stutter at the thought, at the feeling of Reggie's kiss drifting away from Alex's lips and along his jaw instead, up toward his ear. He shudders again, moaning deep in his throat where Luke is sucking a biting little mark right this second. He manages to coordinate well enough to get one hand in Reggie's hair, the other back on Luke's thigh - even higher this time, the tips of his fingers grazing the warm skin just above the waistband of Luke's jeans - but with nobody kissing him properly, there's nothing to stop all the stupid noises from leaving his mouth, much less all the crazy words formed from half-coherent thoughts that he has no business speaking aloud. 

"Could we have been doing this all this time?" he vaguely hears himself saying. There's flashes of memories in his head of all the nights he spent at Luke's house when he couldn't stomach sleeping under his parents' roof. Sometimes it was for weeks at a time, with Reggie there, too, more often than not, always looking for a reason to get out of his parents' warpath. They'd set the table for the Pattersons' family dinner and wash the dishes after, and then they'd stay up too late pretending to do homework when really they were just writing lyrics and dreaming big and hoping they could remember enough from their shared battered copy of the CliffNotes book on _Brave New World_ to pass their English test the next day. Alex would wake up in Luke's bed with Luke drooling on his shoulder, or on the bean bag in the corner with Reggie curled against him, or on the floor between them with a half-full Butterfinger BB's bag under his elbow and an empty Fruitopia bottle down by his feet, but he never woke up anxious or sad or full of dread. He never woke up alone.

Could they have been kissing even then?

"I mean, _fuck_ , could--could I’ve been watching you guys make out whenever it was just us in the studio?" he asks breathlessly. All those Saturday afternoons when Bobby would be running late or picking up an extra shift at the arcade and it was only Luke and Reggie and Alex in this very space, and Alex would go, _”Do we really even_ need _a rhythm guitarist?”_ but he'd be mostly joking, and Reggie would go, _”Yeah, isn't that what we have Alex for?”_ but he'd kinda mean it, and Luke would throw a just-opened box of Dunkaroos their way and tell them to get serious - could they have been doing this, _taking turns_ with it, with each other, exchanging little escapes from their increasing desires to avoid home at all costs?

“We wasted so much fucking time,” Alex says, and it’s humiliatingly mournful, even with Reggie’s thumb stroking absently at the soft skin behind his ear while pressing a kiss just under his jaw. Teeth grazing close to Alex’s collarbone, Luke pulls away and looks at him, lips all full and red, and takes his face in both his hands again, more or less shoving Reggie away, too, which feels mean, but--

“No, we didn’t. We didn’t waste anything,” Luke says firmly. Reggie sits upright once more, placing his hand over Alex’s where it’s still clutching at Luke’s jeans and pinching gently at each knuckle until Alex’s grip loosens a little. Luke lets out a tiny gasp and glances down for half a second before meeting Alex’s eyes again, his own wide and fervent. “We couldn’t know what we couldn’t know,” he says. “And now we have plenty of it, you know, all the time in the world. More than enough to make up for--for--those sleepovers at my house, and those weekends here, and--god, remember all the movies we snuck into? All the back rows we had to duck down in when the ushers came in with their stupid flashlights?”

“We could’ve been making out during _Jurassic Park_ ,” Alex says, feeling on more solid footing again, rescued from a spiral. Luke scoffs and rolls his eyes, but it’s all affection.

“Please. Too many scenes too scary for our Reginald.” He turns toward Reggie with a smirk, keeping one hand curved around the back of Alex’s head as he shifts his weight. “Remember how loud you shrieked when the Jeep--uh. Reggie?” Alex tears his gaze away from Luke’s tragically mark-free neck to see Reggie staring down between him and Luke, unblinking.

“Have--have you always had this?” he asks. Luke furrows his brow.

“Huh?” he says, puzzled and glancing down, too. “Had what?” He sighs in a breathy little shudder then, and Alex finally follows Reggie’s gaze, angles his head to see what the hell he’s talking about, and when he does, he can’t help but laugh.

“ _This!_ " Reggie says. He’s got both hands high on Luke’s jeans, one still poised over Alex’s, and his fingers have pushed up the hem of Luke’s shirt on either side, revealing an inch or two of skin. Reggie is _mesmerized_. “This--this--strip of skin above your hips!” Luke gives him a look of genuine confusion and laughs, the sound going choked when Reggie rubs his left thumb close to the barely visible trail of dark hair under Luke’s navel.

“I mean, yeah,” Luke says, but Alex elbows Reggie again and grins when Reggie looks up at him, his eyes all bright and round and wild.

“That strip of skin is, like, my favorite thing about being gay,” Alex says, delighted to be able to share this. “I mean, not necessarily on--you know--but just, on any cute guy. Any reveal of that and you feel like a Victorian getting a glimpse of somebody’s ankle.” Reggie lets out a quick burst of half-hysterical laughter and Alex slips his hand down Luke’s thigh - Luke sucks in a breath, bucks his hips again - and settles it on Reggie’s instead, curving his palm over the small tear in the denim and stroking his fingers along the inseam. “There’s a whole big world out here when you realize you like dudes,” Alex says over Reggie’s moan.

"I dunno. I kinda like it in here," Luke says quietly. Alex looks up, mouth open as the want of all this hits him again. 

"Me, too," Reggie says, nodding enthusiastically. "Don't see how it could be any better out there."

It's quiet for a long moment then, just faint sounds of neighborhood traffic drifting in from outside and the three of them breathing, sharing the heavy air here in this space. Alex keeps looking from Luke to Reggie to Luke to Reggie, his eyes never quite focusing on anything beyond the bitten look of Luke’s bottom lip, the size of Reggie’s pupils, the smooth untouched column of Luke’s throat, the candy red prickling high across Reggie’s cheeks. The heat of their closeness to him, to each other, is heady. It’s stupid - it’s _stupid_ , they’re _dead_ \- but Alex swears he can smell the sickeningly fake fresh smell of the Snuggle dryer sheets Luke used to toss in with his clothes when he could only afford to wash or dry but not both at the Los Lavaderos laundromat on Virgil, the citrusy scent of the CK One that Reggie lifted from the Thrifty Drug on Santa Monica and then used sparingly because he felt so bad about stealing. Their history isn’t in this studio or in their instruments. It’s in _them_. It was in their bodies when they were alive and it’s in their souls now that they’re dead and Luke is trembling still where the tips of Reggie’s fingers are touching, and Reggie’s thigh is flexing and relaxing beneath the denim under Alex’s hand, and nobody is touching Alex where he wants to be touched and all he can think of is what happens if they do.

“This--” he starts, reedy and worried, before quickly clearing his throat. “This changes things, doesn’t it? Like, bigtime. I mean, there’s no--there’s no going back, if we….” He swallows, casting his eyes down. He jumps when Reggie touches his leg, comforting and warm through the thin fabric of his shorts.

“We don’t do anything unless you say so,” Reggie says when Alex looks up at him. Alex doesn’t think that should fall to him, it isn’t fair, but when he opens his mouth to say as much, Luke cuts him off.

“Not all change is bad, Alex, even if it _is_ big,” he says. “It’s been _us_ for this long, hasn’t it? Nothing can change _that_. We’re--”

“Please do _not_ say we’re _family_ right now,” Alex says with a grimace, despite his gratitude for Luke’s reassurances.

“Yeah, not the time, dude,” Reggie agrees. Luke huffs.

“Look, I’ve never been this hard in my-- _ever_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes before glancing significantly down. “And I promise I’m not gonna, like, cut and run after this just because one of you has had your hand on my dick. But Reggie’s right. It’s up to you, Alex.”

Alex takes a deep breath and one long look at each of them. He raises his hand slightly from Reggie’s leg, stretches his palm and fingers the way he does after a particular heavy jam session. There’s a voice in his head pushing him to say no, to stop this before it goes too far, but it’s familiar and unwelcome - his own small, scared voice from 1993, from before these two idiots wrapped him up in love in such a complete way that made him fully realize he never needed to feel small or scared at all. He shakes his head once, and he feels Reggie’s hand start to move away, but then his own hand is on Luke’s jeans in a flash, deftly popping the button open with his thumb, wasting no more fucking time.

“ _Ohthankgod_ ,” Reggie blurts out, and then it’s a frenzied rush of movements and sounds. Luke ducks down to get to work on Reggie’s belt, Reggie slides his hand higher to palm at Alex through his shorts, and Alex slips his hand easily inside Luke’s jeans and around his hard cock. Luke pitches forward at Alex’s touch, catching himself with his hand against the back of the couch just before he knocks his skull against Reggie’s. Alex arches up as Reggie grinds the heel of his hand down, the pressure so _good_ it makes Alex’s vision go all white around the edges. Reggie shifts his hips up, one hand holding tight and steady to Luke’s knee where it digs into the couch cushion beside him, the other scrambling now over the drawstring of Alex’s shorts.

“Would you--” Luke says, his frustration coming out in a strangled hiss when Alex strokes his fingertips over the length of his cock. He grits his teeth and looks down, annoyed, pushing off from the back of the couch so he can get use both hands on--“Your stupid _belt_ , Reggie! So goddamn '90s.”

“What?! Studded belts are timeless!” Reggie insists, wearing an exaggerated frown. “It’s Alex’s _drawstrings_ that are so '90s.”

“Hey! You don’t have to completely untie it to get your hand in my pants,” Alex says defensively. He’d been thinking his shorts were the most easy access of the three of their outfits, but considering how much Reggie’s struggling, the guy might have a point about the drawstring.

“I thought you said don’t be mean to Alex.” Luke leans in close to Reggie, breathing heavily, a desperate sort of edge gleaming in his eyes. “Don’t be mean to Alex, Reg, or he might stop touching me.” Reggie’s eyes go wide before flickering down and back up.

“Okay, yeah, of course,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Sorry, Alex.”

“It’s really not--”

“But--can we just--you know,” Reggie huffs and raises his hand from Luke’s knee, gesturing vaguely to the general area of their laps. “Can we hit pause, and then we each get our own dick out, and then hit play again? I feel like it’ll be a _lot_ easier.”

“Now who’s got the good ideas?” Alex says, even though it’s a challenge to take his hand off Luke despite knowing the other side of this is Reggie’s hand on _him_. 

“Maybe the ‘B’ really does stand for ‘bassist,’” Luke says, hurrying to unzip his jeans completely and shove them down his hips a little - _enough_ , Alex notes as he does more or less the same with the waistband of his shorts and boxer briefs. Reggie struggles with his own damn belt for a few seconds before finally unbuckling it, and by the time he’s managed to get his jeans open comfortably, Alex is already reaching for Luke again.

The thing is, this isn’t the first time they’ve seen each other’s dicks. Of course it’s not. They’ve been best friends since fifth grade. They were - are? Will be for eternity? - teenage boys together. They shared beds and locker rooms and sleeping bags. Alex and Reggie were there in Luke’s bedroom on his thirteenth birthday when he declared he was going commando from then on and pulled his pants down to prove it. Luke and Alex were there at the beach playing Truth or Dare with Reggie when he stripped his clothes off lightning fast and ran naked into the ocean dangerously close to the crowds at the pier. Reggie and Luke were there outside Coconut Teaszer when some dude on rollerblades stole Alex's duffel bag full of clothes from their van while he was trying to change into shorts that weren’t soaked through with the sweat of a Los Angeles summer before their second song. 

But this is _different_. He’s allowed to _look_ this time. They _all_ are, and Alex would no doubt be way more self-conscious about Reggie and Luke seeing him like this if he wasn’t seeing them, too. He did not, ever, at any point in his life, expect the first dick he’d touch other than his own would be Luke’s, or that the first hand on his dick besides his own would be Reggie’s, but it also makes perfect sense in a dizzying way he doesn’t want to think about right now. Not when there are so many other things to pay attention to.

Luke’s cock is warm and thick in his hand, the head slick and generous with pre-come as Alex works him over. Alex touches Luke like he touches himself, like he touches microphones he pulls toward him during shows: a firm grip, a slow slide up from the base, a sure thumb roaming over the head. Luke keeps biting his lip like he’s trying to quiet himself, but he can’t, and Alex wants to eat up every moan and gasp and muttered curse, breathe in every whine and affirmation and plea for more, swallow all the confidence Luke is offering up to him. He always knew he’d be good at this part, whenever he did finally get around to dating. Even in the worst of times, the most chaotic of headspaces, Alex can keep a rhythm, and this is no exception. 

But Reggie can, too - he just keeps changing it now, fast then slow slow slow then faster again - and Alex, for all the calluses on his hands, never even thought about how it might feel to be touched by someone else with them. The contrast between the hard skin of Reggie's fingertips with the softness of his palm is just noticeable enough to drive the coherency out of Alex's mind and he's suddenly grateful for every minute he spent listening to Reggie pout about how he just couldn't break the habit of plucking his strings so harshly. Reggie twists on the upstroke, goes back down in one smooth glide, and then he does this _thing_ \- loosens his grip into something lazier, circles his middle and index fingers around the base of Alex's cock, and strokes across in a light, stuttered sort of movement - that tears a choked moan from Alex's throat.

"Sorry,” says Reggie, who is probably the only person in the world with enough earnestness in his heart to sound sincerely apologetic while receiving a handjob. “It’s the angle, I--”

“It’s good, it’s good,” Alex says in a rush, his hips bucking up. “That thing you just did--”

“It was an accident,” Reggie says, groaning at something Luke does that Alex can’t see.

“Think he wants you to do it again, baby,” Luke whispers. He tries for a smile, but it keeps falling from his face with every stroke of Alex’s hand. 

“Oh!” Reggie gasps, a mauve blush creeping down his neck. Alex isn’t sure if it’s a reply to the _he wants you to do it again_ or a reaction to the _baby_ , but he also doesn’t care, because Reggie _does_ do it again, and then Reggie leans over and captures his open mouth in a soft kiss. Alex squeezes his eyes shut and deepens it immediately, eager for this, for everything, deliriously thankful that he doesn’t need to _really_ breathe, because he’s so fucking lightheaded and dizzy right now, and for every incredible thing Reggie does to him, he also takes more of his breath away.

There’s a solid second verse somewhere in there - maybe change the cliché _take my breath away_ phrasing to something with grittier words, like _steal_ \- and Alex has maybe got, like, two lines floating around in his brain until Reggie moves a biting kiss down to his jaw again, effectively filling his skull with fog once more. With Reggie’s mouth on his neck, Alex opens his eyes and locks his gaze with Luke’s, which is how he’s clued into the exact moment when Luke’s _Pay Attention to Me!_ gene kicks in. The sight of Luke biting his bottom lip sends a happy chill down Alex’s spine, but that twists into something white hot and dangerous when Luke grabs Alex’s wrist and pulls his hand off his dick for long enough to spit into his palm, all while never breaking eye contact. Alex breathes out a full gust of air as he returns immediately to the pace he had going before the interruption, the smug look on Luke’s face faltering just as instantly, and then Alex tightens his fist and--

Luke comes first. _Alex_ makes Luke come first. This will always be a fact that Alex carries with him in his back pocket. Luke comes first, and it’s not just because Luke is kinda easy, although that’s turned out to be sorta true - it’s because of _Alex_ , who got his first kiss _and_ gave his first handjob today, and whose left hand is now dripping with his best friend’s come and spit, and who is extremely fucking pleased with himself because he made _Luke_ come _first_ and now Luke is trembling through it, rolling his hips erratically, chasing the aftershocks in Alex’s loosening grip. 

“How are you so goddamn good at that?” Luke asks in a sigh, slumping forward onto Reggie, rendered at least temporarily useless. Alex gives him a smirk, but it’s unstable and short-lived. Reggie twists on the downstroke, too, and at the same time sucks a hard kiss just above the dip in his collarbone, right on top of a mark Luke already left, and Alex comes apart, shaking all over as Reggie works and talks him through it, pulling back to give Alex more room to breathe.

“Look at you,” Reggie says in disbelief. Alex blinks at him, trying so hard to fight through to full awareness of his surroundings. He takes in Reggie’s wide eyes disappearing behind fluttering eyelids, the unsteady movement of Luke’s arm where he’s resumed jerking off Reggie while still battling his own remaining bit of haziness, and he realizes his hand is still wet, and. Well. He grew up in Southern California. He wasn’t raised to be wasteful.

Alex’s hand joins Luke’s on Reggie’s cock, long and hard and so fucking slick now, and Luke snaps his head up from Reggie’s shoulder at the new touch, shares a wild grin with Alex when he understands what’s happening. It seems to take Reggie a minute to realize himself, to register anything beyond the sensations, but when he does - when he looks from Alex to Luke and back again, like he can’t quite believe his own luck, before blinking wide-eyed and glancing down at their hands on his dick - it does him in quickly. He throws his head back when he comes, his loud moan spinning out into a litany of their names and swear words they rarely hear from him. Luke and Alex wince at the crack that resounds through the room when Reggie’s head hits the leather-covered wooden back of the couch, but they don’t stop stroking his cock, and seconds later he pitches forward again, nearly doubling over, and Luke has to lean back in a hurry to avoid a broken nose. 

Alex is distracted by a lot of things very suddenly - the additional mess on his hand, for starters, and what to do about it, but also the enviable way Reggie evidently just, like, totally _surrenders_ to orgasm, and how can Alex learn to do that - which must be the only reason he’s caught by surprise when Reggie practically lunges at him, grabbing two fistfuls of the front of his t-shirt and propelling himself to more or less leap into Alex’s lap, crowding all his space as he kisses him again, breathless and thrilled. Between his own muffled noise of surprise and Reggie’s grateful whine, Alex almost misses Luke’s indignant little “ _oof!_ ” and the thud of him hitting the floor.

“You have the _best_ ideas!” Reggie groans into Alex’s mouth. Alex laughs, feeling strangely liberated.

“It was _your_ idea to kiss me to begin with, Reggie,” he says, and unceremoniously takes the opportunity to wipe his hand clean on Reggie’s pristine shirt. Reggie jerks backward at that, making a disgruntled face, the spell effectively broken.

“Hey!” 

“Yeah, _hey_ ,” Luke says from the ground. Reggie sits back, untangling his legs from Alex’s, and Alex raises an eyebrow at Luke, who looks as annoyed as probably anyone could while tucking his dick back into his jeans.

“That’s what you get for looking me in the eyes and spitting into my hand,” Alex says darkly. Luke pulls up his zipper and looks up at Alex, grinning proudly. Alex shakes his head. “ _So_ mean.”

“What? When did that happen? I missed it?!” Reggie cries, looking around for something to wipe his hand on.

“He’s a menace,” Alex mutters. Luke winks at him, and Alex’s cock twitches with renewed interest, and Alex immediately maneuvers to pull up his shorts again - all completely unrelated.

“Hey, not the flannel!” Reggie says sternly. He yanks back the sleeve of his shirt where it hangs over the couch cushion and Luke holds up his hands in mock defeat, rolling his eyes.

“It’s nothing that’s not yours anyway,” he says, waving his come-covered hand lazily in the air.

“Actually, it might also be some of yours,” Alex mentions, casual as he can. He bites back a smirk at the sound of Luke’s mouth snapping shut, the flush that appears over his cheeks.

“ _You’re_ the menace,” Luke mumbles. Reggie sighs and finally cleans his own hand on his shirt, holding out the flannel sleeve to Luke, who looks up at him in question. “You sure?” Reggie shrugs and smiles, shimmying to get his jeans pulled up again.

“I gotta do laundry anyway now,” he says, gesturing to the mess on his t-shirt. 

“I bet there’s a ghost way to do this. Like, we just concentrate really hard or something, and then magically everything’s clean,” Luke says as he wipes his hand, brow furrowing with focus. He gingerly folds the sleeve over so there’s little chance Reggie will dirty up his hand again by accident. He looks up at Alex and Reggie, smiling bright. “We’ll have to try it next time.”

“Next time,” Alex says distantly, happily, glancing at Reggie, who nods at him in delight. Luke scoots over to wrap his arms around Alex’s calves.

“Next time,” he confirms, resting his chin on Alex’s knee and looking up at him, eyes big and dark and honest. Alex reaches out to him and rests his hand on the top of his head, narrowing his eyes curiously at Luke’s fluttering eyelids as he absently strokes his fingers at the roots of Luke’s hair. 

“Next time,” Reggie repeats, nodding again. He taps the tip of his boot against Luke’s hip, and Luke elbows half-heartedly at his leg.

"Keep your dirty boots off me."

“They’re not dirty!” Reggie says, sticking his feet out in front of him and giving his shoes an appraising look.

“The soles of these shoes have LA all over them,” Luke says, his voice lilting up toward the end of it like he realized halfway through his sentence that it could be a song lyric.

“Hey, what do you think happened to my boots after we died?” Reggie asks, eyebrows raised. “I mean, like, what did they do with our bodies and our actual clothes? Not ghost clothes or whatever. Do you think I was buried in my boots? Oh, that’d make a great country song.”

“The ‘B’ in LGBTQ stands for ‘boots,’” Luke says, squeezing Alex’s ankles until he squirms.

“The ‘B’ in LGBTQ stands for ‘bare ankles,’” Alex says. Reggie and Luke give him a look. He shrugs. “It’s, like, a bisexual fashion stereotype or something. They cuff their jeans. I dunno. It’s a meme.”

“Yeah, I’m still not clear on what a meme is,” Reggie says, frowning. Alex shakes his head and shrugs again.

“You guys gotta listen to Flynn explain it, but like, make sure she does it slow,” Luke says, his chin digging hard into Alex’s knee as he talks. He holds Alex’s gaze for a moment before squeezing his ankles again. “You good, Alex?” he asks softly. Alex hums out a little laugh.

“Yeah, man. I’m really fucking good,” he says. Luke grins up at him.

“Your neck is _covered_ , dude. You’re gonna have to wear your hoodies up for a _while_ ,” he says smugly. Alex hums again, considering.

“That’s okay.” He twirls a curl of Luke’s hair around his finger and pulls, testing out a theory. Luke sucks in a breath and goes all soft and melty, his eyes suddenly heavy-lidded, and Alex feels it against his skin when Luke swallows. He turns his head and meets Reggie’s waggling eyebrows with his own knowing look and tugs another lock of Luke’s hair, smiling at the vibrations Luke’s low, half-cut off groan sends across his knee. He’s not the only one with a tell. _Next time._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] (don't look down) we're still rising up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198473) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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